Blood Red Rose
by SkyBlu - JediKnight
Summary: AU.Eowyn is to be married to a Haradric Count in high favor with Theoden, but when she and Faramir meet a forbidden romance is ignited, that could not only tear apart two families, but put two Kingdoms at war. R
1. Count Saphin

_**Hello, guys!**_

_**This is the first fic my sis and i have ever done together. We both write a little different, but we hope to get your interest in the first chapter so that you'll wana come back. Any comment you have to give us will be treated with respect. We hope you enjoy it. P.S. any questions you have, feel free to ask us. **_

_**Of course we own nothing except for Saphin, Fox, etc. All lotr credit goes to tolkien.**_

_**Thanks!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_This chapter is written by the both of us._

_Blood red Rose_

King Théoden sat up in his throne when a chestnut haired male servant entered his anteroom; Éowyn, Eomer, and Théodred stood beside him, along with Grima Wormtongue. Théoden knew that the servant bore some kind of news. He narrowed his eyes in anticipation and signaled for the man to speak.

Before uttering a word, the servant bowed formally before his King and nervously gazed at his surroundings. Large pillars flanked the anteroom and reached upward to the high ceiling; various paintings of priceless value covered every wall.

The servant swallowed before speaking. "My lord, a Ranger has come to see you on behalf of Lord Saphin—do you wish to see him?"

A smile creased Théoden's face; Lord Saphin had a way of sending a messenger before he made his triumphant return to Edoras. Saphin had voluntarily set out with his Rangers and some of Rohan's own soldiers, to the Gap of Rohan to fight off a large number of orcs. He had been gone for about a month and Théoden's trust in Saphin's fighting abilities had weakened considerably.

"Yes; I wish to see him. Send him in this very instant."

Éowyn, who stood at her uncle's left hand side, was not so surprised. Lord Saphin had made it no secret that he was attracted to her, and so before he left he had sworn to her that he would return. Éowyn had never done anything to bait the man or lead him on, but every time his eyes bored into her, she felt as though he was looking right through her soul.

When Saphin's Ranger was ushered in, the man bowed accordingly, yet he still drew a few scowls from those present—because he was a Haradrim. Saphin was not fully Rohirric; it just happened that his father was a Haradrim Count and Saphin never fully let go of his Haradric heritage.

The Ranger—Xiomar had jet black hair that hung just past his shoulders, tanned skin, and large brown eyes; he paid no attention to the foul looks, instead he focused his gaze on the King.

"What tidings do you bring ranger of the South?" Théoden asked, already expecting a certain answer.

"I bring good tidings, my lord; Lord Saphin is on his way here as I speak; not a single orc was left standing!"

"Ah, so he proves himself again!" Théoden chortled uncharacteristically; for it was not common for him to rejoice in such a manner in front of a lowly guest. Realizing his error, Théoden cleared his throat. "You may leave now," he said to the Ranger.

Minas Tirith

The gate guardian bowed low and unlocked the creaking iron door for the Captain.

Faramir strode down the dark, narrow hall that echoed his footsteps five times over. It was early that morning; very early. It was before the crack of dawn and the gate guardian pondered to his self as he watched the tense Commander disappear around the corner bend. Captain Faramir never came to the Dungeon so early a time. The gate Guardian leaned back against the cold stone wall in a thoughtful manner.

Faramir walked the long two miles of the hall. It seemed to be the longest walk of his life. He approached the last and farthest cell on his left and stopped. A skinny form was tightly secured in a rough dark green blanket. Bony, dirty feet peaked out from the cloth in a crossed manner. Long thin hands, which were shaking, were pale and keeping the blanket from loosening. The face was haggard; no one could tell that it had only lived twenty and two years. A pair of brown eyes opened; barely revealed by the matted mass of dark curls that were strewn in their way. A smile slowly crept along the narrow face.

"I thought that I had seen the last of you five days ago," the hoarse voice remarked coolly. "So you have come to bid me farewell, I suppose?"

Faramir recalled the rather repugnant incident five days ago. He cleared his throat and folded his arms. A pang of pity, the same pang that had drawn him to this young man from the moment they had met, struck him there at that moment.

"I can still save you," Faramir said, "But you must help me. Why will you not tell me anything about you? Why do you keep your name a secret from me? I would think that I had gained your trust by now. This is not the time to be tenacious. In a few hours your life will be…." Faramir looked away.

A chuckle escaped the prisoner's lips. "I told you that you can address me by Fox. Besides, Faramir, why do you care about me so much? You've heard the charges against me! You have seen and heard the evidence. I have admitted to being the one who set the fire rope in motion. I was going to destroy your army camp. How can you think…?"

"I know you did not act alone! Your fellows abandoned you when they saw my brother's men coming and they left you in the lurch! Give me their names, Fox, and I'll get them! Why are you doing this! They have left you to die and yet you still defend them!" Faramir had clenched his fists and his voice had risen. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

Fox, although he did not express it, felt a sense of gratitude that this gondorian was so concerned about his upcoming fate! And, he was a haradrim.

"Captain, you think you've got it all right, but you haven't…"

"Then tell me what happened."

"I think I shall sleep for the last three hours of my life. I'd rather not waste them by…"

"This is why I stormed out on you five days ago. You frustrated me then and you frustrate me now. I am telling you that I can save your life if you give me something; anything!"

"You may not understand this, Faramir, but in Harad, we hold a great bond of loyalty for one another. I am a villain to Gondor, yes. You should have a clear conscience when my time is up this morning. Just because I got caught does mean I should drag my fellows down with me. To set me free, you do not know that I wouldn't try it again someday."

Faramir shook his head, confused and angry. "I tried to give you life, Fox, but you have thrown it away. Maybe you do deserve the rope around your neck after all."

Faramir turned on his heel and stormed out of the dungeon in a hurry and distraught.

It was chilly that morning, but the sun was out despite it all. Boromir and Faramir stood poised as the gates were opened and the prisoner was lead out in a rough manner by two masculine guards. The prisoner was chained at the ankles and his arms were clasped by the two soldiers. The prisoner was bare footed and the marks of faded red blisters were obvious on his feet from when he was tortured for information. Nevertheless, Fox wore a smile as though he was being freed. He kept his head high and held a haunting gaze with Faramir that rattled the Captain's bones.

Prisoner's deaths in Gondor were done in a secluded area outside the dungeon with no audience except for a few soldiers and the Captains. Boromir narrowed his eyes. He abhorred this tenacious prisoner who had refused despite numerous tortures, to reveal his accomplices. Boromir was relieved to have this stressful ordeal over, yet, it unnerved him that Fox showed no sign of weakness or fear. Boromir was pale and nervous, yet he didn't know why. He stole a glance at his brother, who was as rigid as a pole and motionless. Boromir knew how Faramir had felt about this man, yet, he had opposed him and had the authority because he was the head captain. He had told Faramir on numerous occasions that whatever he had thought, Fox was a criminal, abandoned or not, and he would face Gondorian justice.

Fox was led up the platform slowly. He dismissed the opportunity to speak freely and with a last smile, embraced death with no struggle.

Edoras

The rider rode swiftly across the plains of Edoras—he had chosen to ride this way alone. He knew that King Théoden was anticipating his return, he had also sworn to a certain Lady the he would return in one piece, it was not like him to be so tardy on a mission like this, but the blame went to the Rohirrim spies who had poorly counted the orcs numbers, they had to kill double the number of orcs reported!

Saphin had ridden his horse at a hard gallop for so many miles that it began to froth at the mouth, but when they finally were within trotting distance of the Golden Hall; he slowed the horse to a canter. In a few moments a guard approached him and took the horse, Denrolth, to stables.

As Saphin approached Meduseld, he removed his helmet, revealing his dark brown hair. It was kept in a clasp fit only for one of high ranking, and his keen brown eyes were set on the Golden Hall, which were only a few feet away from him. As he neared it, a smile of sincere pride crossed his chiseled face; and being out in the wild had caused him to grow a light beard which suited him perfectly. As he approached the double doors a guard opened them for him.

"The King has been expecting you, my lord," the guard said. "You may go to him."

Saphin walked boldly through the large, richly decorated doors and stood before the King and bowed fully. His eyes quickly scanned the faces of Eomer, Théodred, Grima, who was hovering over the king, and Éowyn, whose pale blue eyes had been fixated on him the moment he had graced them with his presence.

Théoden smiled warmly and motioned for Éowyn to come to his ear. Saphin watched as her face overcame with great disappointment, and with a mere murmur to Saphin, he hurried past him faster then the wind.

Saphin watched her leave and turned his attention back to the King and the skeptical expressions of his company.

"Greetings, My Lord,' he said calmly, "a thousand apologies for my very long absence, but I must say in my defense that the number of orcs greatly exceeded my anticipation. However, I am proud to bring you good news: only one Orc was left on his two legs. I can assure you. I took with me a hundred men and I only lost seven, although, of course, any casualty is a great one. We have kept them far from bay for a while I suppose. Their slaughter was such a great one; I don't believe we shall see the likes of them for a good while."

Théoden was too pleased to utter a word.

Théodred eyed the confident Captain carefully. It was hard to pick a fault with the brilliance of Saphin, but he was half Haradric and Théodred was always fully on guard with him. "What is the purpose of leaving one Orc?" he challenged, cupping his fist under his chin. "I do not see the humor in that."

Théoden chuckled.

Saphin, too, chuckled. "Prince Théodred," he said coolly, "I find there to be great humor in leaving one, besides, who then would return to Mordor with the good news? Have no fear, my friend, after the distasteful loss; I am sure that the lone orc shall be fed to his fellowmen."

Théodred swallowed and said nothing more.

Théoden clapped his hands, laughing. He rose up from his seat and shook Saphin's hand, followed by a hug. "I see all the humor in the world in leaving one orc! Well done, Saphin, I congratulate you and I shall reward you greatly with a large feast to celebrate your successful return. Rohan's army and guard have been much stronger with you in command. What a fine Knight you are!"

Saphin bowed his head in modesty and kissed the diamond ring. "I am most honored to serve my King."

Eomer scratched his chin and smiled. He could not help but like Saphin's Demeanor.

"King, if you will," Saphin said in a low voice, "Save the trouble of a feast and ball. If I could be granted with a word from you, I would be the happiest man in all the realms."

Théoden frowned. "We shall have a feast to celebrate your success, Saphin."

"And I'd be most grateful, but King, there is something that I must ask you. I cannot hold it in my heart for much longer."

The King nodded thoughtfully. "Very well then: Eomer and Grima, if you both would be so kind as to excuse us for a mere moment."

Eomer left with no abjection, but it was Grima who put up the fuss.

"Oh King, my place is by your side. Do you not trust mine ears to be graced with the same words as yours?"

"Grima, please; for only a moment."

Saphin watched them leave and Théoden took his place next to his son, who felt pleased to be implicated.

Saphin cleared his throat three times in a loud manner and, for the first time in all his life, Théodred noted nervousness. He arched his brow and shrugged at his father.

Saphin took a deep breath and looked squarely at the King.

"My Lord, in my nine years of serving you, I have asked for nothing to my own personal gain and I am proud of that record. But in the last two years, I have…I have…I have…I have fallen in love with your Niece, Lady Éowyn, and before I gain the courage to confess my feelings to her, I would be most honored if I could have your blessing."

Théoden's eyes widened double fold and he leaned back in his chair, speechless. Théodred chuckled and folded his arms. "I knew it," he said curtly. 'All of those evening horse rides, midnight strolls, tales of realms afar, and all sorts of other fatuous acts was your way of coquetting with her!"

Saphin redden mildly, but ignored the comment.

"I had no idea, I honestly thought that it nothing serious. Saphin, you are a good man whom I treasure and hold in high esteem. I will consent to your request," he said at last.

Saphin smiled sincerely and bowed low before dismissing his self.

The doors closed and Théodred stood up. "Father!" was all he could say.

Théodred was certain his father would have said no. He was starting to feel jealousy towards Saphin. First, Saphin had convinced Théoden to keep Théodred and Eomer away from war and have him go alone to prove his quality, and the King had obeyed, despite his son's wishes. Now, the consent he had been granted to make love to Lady Éowyn meant that Théoden held him in very high esteem and soon he would be on the same level as Théodred!

"Father," Théodred repeated.

"Son,' Théoden said with a smile, "Saphin is not only good for Éowyn, but he is good for Rohan. Do you remember when Count Wolfe of Harad was in power? He started numerous battles with Rohan, but when Saphin deposed him and established his house in Harad, we have been left alone. He is keeping the orcs at bay and he is an essential asset to Rohan. I've never seen anyone wield a weapon, any weapon, like he. Harad respects him and so does Rohan. He has kept the peace."

"So this is consent is for this?"

"He'll not marry Éowyn if she doesn't want him, but I see no better man for her. I think if all goes well, we'll get the best of both worlds."

It was nearing sunset when Saphin had asked Éowyn to join him in a stroll down the River Entwash. She had smiled gaily and accepted immediately. They had walked in silence on their way there and now that the waves of the water were softly rippling, Saphin felt at ease.

"My Uncle was very proud of you, I assume?" Éowyn asked softly. Her long golden hair was brushed away by her pale slender hand.

Saphin nodded. "He was indeed, but, how did you know that my journey was a successful one?"

Éowyn chuckled. "Eomer told me,' she confessed, reddening. "My Uncle and cousin usually prefer to shield me from that sort of thing, but I was so curious about your adventure, I just to know."

"Your little secret is safe with me,' he replied with a smile.

"Saphin," she started after a brief pause, "I have known you for two years now, and yes, we have spent some wonderful time together, but I must say that you are still a mystery to me."

Saphin sat down on the green grass arched his black brow. Éowyn settled beside him.

"My lady, what do you wish to know?" this conversation had taken a sour turn for Saphin, for that was the last thing had hoped to hear just moments before his proposal to her. However, he wore no sign of his conviction.

"I know that your father was a Haradric and that your mother was from Rohan. I know that you travel from Harad to Rohan, but you station yourself here officially. I know that you are a count in Harad and you have your fleet of rangers. I know you love Rohan and horses and the King."

"I think you more of me than that, my lady," Saphin remarked.

"Perhaps, but I want to know about you and your past."

"Why?"

She stared into his eyes. "I find you to be a rather intriguing man, Saphin."

He lay down on his back and she sat crossed legged, tearing a white flower apart, and listening to him."

"My father's name was Zebulan. He was a very handsome man who governed the most influential house in Harad: house Simitri. He was skillful in all aspects; knowledge, weapons of all kinds, and charming ladies. He was also South Harad's weapon master. He was hated for his wealth and envied of his power, but his enemies never dared to challenge him because of his skill. They hated but feared him. My father had quarreled much with King Théoden's father and one night he sent his rangers our here to Rohan and they captured 87 people, including a nobleman's youngest and fairest daughter, Nora. My father had many lovers, but he never married. Once he saw this beautiful, dark haired woman, he fell in love with her. She was his maiden for five years, and in those years, she fell in love with him, for he treated with such grace, she couldn't keep her heart closed to him.

"They married and due to his power, it was accepted. He granted her freedom, but she still lived with him in Harad. She loved it there. Soon they had a child, a son, and named him Saphin. When I was born, my father had changed for the better and those around him noticed and took it for weakness. I was seven years of age when Wolfe, a friend of my father, killed him by poison one late special feast. My mother heard him calling her name on his dying breath and saw him lying in his own blood from the balcony. She grabbed me and managed to escape the men who were coming after us. We came here to Rohan and I was educated and I grew up in this place. My mother told me tales of my father numerous times on many occasions. She was always honest with me, but she withered daily after his death and her beauty fled from her. She died in my arms when I was 15. I was raised by her father and when I was 18, I went back to Harad with an alias and I befriended young men and they became my loyal rangers. I served under Count Wolfe and his household, but he didn't know who I was. At twenty, I took revenge upon him."

His voice had become more somber and slightly cracked at certain events. Éowyn wiped away her tears and was subconsciously on her belly with her hand stroking his hair.

"I love Rohan,' he said, clearing his throat and trying to sound composed. "It was where I became a young man and there is such a sense of stronger security than here than in Harad. I am no street boy, but I am a great Counts son, so I must be more poised in Harad. My superstition is that I will die like my father. I spend so much time looking over my shoulder and trying to be secure, that maybe I keep my enemies too close, or the blade shall stab in the heart instead of my back. "

Éowyn's tear dropped on his cheek. This man had just opened his soul to her, more than what she had hoped for.

He sat up and smiled wistfully. "I did not come out here to have pity, my lady. I was crushed when you said you felt distant from me, so I felt obliged to you."

"What did you come out here for then, Count Saphin?"

He ran his thumb down her cold cheek and stared into her eyes as though he could see the depths of her soul. "Marry me, Lady Éowyn, be my wife. I have loved you for two years now and I know you well enough to be sure that I can be the one to make you happy.

I know this must abrupt, but I don't want your answer now, I want you to lie in bed, staring out of your window, looking at the stars, and think about it. Think about it with your whole heart and then give me your answer."

Éowyn had been holding her breath, feeling completely speechless. She felt cold and numb. She was overwhelmed a good deal, for she had not anticipated this question at all.

He helped her to her feet and walked her back to the Palace in silence; but it was beautiful silence.

Minas Tirith

"Let this be a toast to the death of Fox; a foolish man who was foolish as he drew his last breath," Boromir loudly declared. He drank thirstily and a servant refilled his cup. "And let this be a night of celebration; a celebration to the fact that one by one, all those who plot against Gondor shall be brought to justice!"

"Aye," the crowed roared.

Faramir entered the Army camp and stopped at the doorway. His eyes watched as his brother lost his self to wine, music, and frolic.

The music was being played loudly and people were dancing all about. Anger was ignited in Faramir. Boromir knew how he had felt about Fox, and yet here he was, drowning in revelry.

A red, curly haired woman tugged on his arm, holding a wine goblet in her free hand. "Come and join the party, Captain, we've been waiting for you all night!"

Faramir freed his arm without harming her and strode past her, making his way for his brother, who was laughing hysterically at a joke from one of his comrades and drinking with a lady on his shoulder.

"Have you lost your mind and your dignity all in one cup?" Faramir demanded grabbing the large goblet as Boromir put it to his lips. "What is this entire frolic about? Have you gone mad?"

Boromir looked bewildered, but he smiled. "Brother, you've made it! I thought you'd never arrive! Have a drink to calm you. The party is just getting started!"

Faramir dashed the cup to the ground, his face growing red with anger. "We killed a man today and you sit here as though we've won a war! We haven't won anything! They're still out there and you're sitting on your hide, drinking like a wretched fool!"

Boromir rose up and, frowning deeply upon his brother, shoved him against a wall.

"What is your problem?" he sneered. "Today we put a villain to sleep forever and you act as though I've killed my brother! What is the matter with you? I don't care about your theory; whether he was helped or not, he was one of the villains and he deserved what he got. Do you think I don't know about your secret little trips to visit him? Do you know the kind of trouble I could have put you in? You forget about all of that, don't you, little brother? You could have been killed or worse! And you have the guts to stand over me and scold me like this." Boromir paused, keeping his grasp and his eyes on Faramir. "Sometimes I wonder whose side you're really on. If you feel so badly for him, go deliver his body to the Haradrim personally! Since you hold such remorse for them, maybe they'll forgive you and accept you! Go ahead, Faramir, you seem to love them so much!"

Faramir closed his eyes when Boromir let him go. His heart was pounding and perspiration was sliding down his temples. His breaths were coming in heavy gasps. He ran his hands though his hair and gazed at all of the faces that were staring at him. The party had grown silent and all eyes were fixed on the brothers.

Boromir and Faramir stared at each other in silence.

Boromir yanked his cloak off the wall and dashed out of the party.

Anborn approached Faramir with a cup. "Here, drink this to calm yourself, Captain. He'll be back to normal in the morning…"

Faramir, distraught, raised his hand in protest and darted out of the scene, after his brother.

TBC Soon!

Thanks for checking it out, hope you liked it and come back soon!

P.s. We both love Boromir, do not think we're trashing him in any way, trust me. It'll all work out.

And i want to give credit to RA Salvatore. I got inspiration for a few elements from him.


	2. The Betrothal

_**A/N: **Hey guy, it's me (Jedi Knight), well this chapter is all of my doing, so I hope that you all enjoy it! _

_Blood red Rose_

**Chapter two**

Éowyn slowly entered the Palace and made her way to her quarters; what had happened just a few moments ago had taken her completely by surprise: Saphin had asked her to be his wife.

What was she going to do?

Before Éowyn could even process the question properly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had nearly reached her quarters and was currently making her way down the mile-long hall when she heard someone behind her.

She whirled around and found herself face to face with Théodred, she visibly relaxed for she was relieved to know that it was Théodred and not Grima; however, the Prince of Rohan didn't have the feature smile that usually played across his lips whenever they would meet. This time he seemed a little agitated.

"I'm sorry that I startled you, Éowyn," Théodred apologized sincerely.

Éowyn let out a sigh. "It's not your fault, Théodred; I have been…quick to conclusions lately. Are you alright?"

Théodred looked away for a moment, wondering if it was his place to intercede in such a personal matter. _"Perhaps I shouldn't have come," _he thought.

"Théodred?" Éowyn asked, not having the slightest clue what was the matter with her cousin.

Théodred put the thought in the back of his mind. "Éowyn, perhaps it isn't my place, but I'm your cousin and you're like a sister to me, please know that I'm only looking out for you."

Éowyn cocked her head; "What are you saying?" she asked.

Théodred lowered his voice so that none would hear him. "Do you—do you mean to marry him?"

Éowyn looked startled, yet she knew of whom he spoke. "How do you know that Saphin asked me to marry him?" she asked. Théodred couldn't tell if she was angry with him for invading her privacy, or if she wasn't mad at all.

"I was there with father when he asked; I just want you to be happy, so please do not feel obliged to marry him because he asked you. It is your right to turn him down."

Éowyn could see sincere concern in Théodred's eyes…along with a tinge of bitterness. Aside from that, she knew that he was looking out for her.

"Yes," she said, embracing Théodred. "He asked me to marry him, but I have not yet made my decision; I will take your words into consideration and I thank you for wanting to look after me, but I assure you that I can take care of myself—especially when it comes to Saphin."

Minas Tirith

Faramir found Boromir outside, overlooking the Pelennor; it was obvious that Boromir thought himself to be alone. Faramir was a little nervous to approach, yet he wanted to set things right with his brother.

"Boromir," he said in a voice loud enough to make Boromir whirl around to face him. Boromir's face instantly twisted into a scowl when his eyes fell on Faramir, yet he didn't look half as angry.

"What is it?" he asked stiffly.

"About—about what happened, brother, how can you be cross with me for not celebrating a man's death? Nevertheless, I did not find you to argue about morals. Today has been one bad ordeal after another; may we at least agree to disagree? Surely you cannot excommunicate me because I stood up for what I believe in."

Boromir shook his head in disbelief. "Remove the scales from your eyes, _little_ _brother_: you are a Gondorian. We uphold morals and honor! We do not sneak to the enemy and try to treat the barbarian with respect when he would not return it! These Haradrim are responsible for killing your fellow countrymen! And yet you visit him and try to grant him mercy when he gave your Gondorian brothers none!" Boromir spat the last words and averted his gaze back to the pelennor.

Faramir's jaw clenched; Boromir was still too sour to think clearly. "Very well, Boromir; be that way. In order to be honorable we must show the barbarian respect so that he will know that there is another way…" Faramir let his voice trail off as he walked away.

Edoras

Éowyn had been thinking about Saphin's proposal that night; and no, she didn't love him. But _"Perhaps I could,"_ she thought. She had already been thinking about it for some time and had come to her decision.

It was now dark outside, save the full moon. Yet, the house of Théoden was not yet sleeping. Éowyn strode out of her quarters and stood by one of the large windows in a Hall which was smaller than the main anteroom, though it did not lack in treasures. The marble floor was finely polished and mosaics lined the walls. Éowyn loved the feel of the wind whipping softly through her face.

She suddenly turned around when she heard the sound of someone padding across the marble floor. It was none other than King Théoden.

"Éowyn," he said smiling, "It is a wonderful surprise to see you here."

"The feelings are mutual, my lord," she said, smiling. "I need to talk with you about something of great importance."

Théoden settled down in one of the plush multicolored chairs. "I am listening, Éowyn."

Éowyn clasped her hands together in front of her. "As you know my lord, today lord Saphin asked me to be his wife."

Théoden's eyes gleamed with excitement. Could it be that Éowyn had said yes? "I might have heard of something along those lines," he responded.

Éowyn sat down beside him. "Well, he asked me to think about it…and I said yes."

Théoden's eyes gleamed with joy and a smile creased his face. "Oh, Éowyn!" he cried with glee. "You have chosen to marry an honorable man; words cannot describe my joy!" he said, embracing her.

Éowyn was surprised by her uncle's reaction; she hadn't expected him to be overjoyed, but she was just glad that he thought she was making the right decision, for his opinion was very important to her.

"Thank you for truly being happy, my lord," Éowyn said, returning the embrace.

"How can I not be? We must tell the entire household!" he exclaimed. "And we shall hold a celebration in you and lord Saphin's honor."

"I honestly do not know how to thank you, my lord," Éowyn said, choking back tears.

Théoden smiled. "You can thank me by being happy and having plenty of children."

Éowyn couldn't help smiling at the remark. "We are not yet married, my lord!" she laughed.

"Ah, but soon you will be; and I thank you for telling me first but I fear that lord Saphin must be in torture as he awaits your decision."

Éowyn's eyes widened as she remembered that she had failed to tell the Count of her decision, when he was the man she was going to marry!

"Do you think that he his still on the grounds, my lord?" Éowyn asked, running a hand through her long blond locks.

Théoden nodded. "He is here as we speak; I believe that he is almost leaving, though."

"Where might I find him?" Éowyn asked.

"In the main hall; I fear that he shall take an earlier leave if Eomer continues to discuss battle strategies."

Éowyn didn't even hear the last part of his sentence; she dashed out of the smaller hall and ran down the countless corridors until she finally found her way to the main hall.

And there he was; Saphin _was_, in fact, engaged in a conversation with Eomer, but Éowyn knew that she had to speak with him quickly. So taking a deep breath, Éowyn strode up to Saphin and spoke as confidently as possible. "My lord, if it would not be of any trouble to you, would you mind joining me on the Palace grounds?"

Eomer arched an eyebrow; he was completely ignorant to the situation, yet he knew that a normal Éowyn would never summon Saphin for a frivolous thing.

A small smile found its way to Saphin's lips, yet he wasn't completely sure if she had accepted his proposal. Could he handle the rejection?

"_Of course!"_ he scolded himself. "_I will take it as a man should."_

He politely excused himself from Eomer and followed Éowyn outside. It was the second time that they had been on the grounds together that day; the air was still clean and crisp, and a slight wind whistled around them. It was the perfect setting for an acceptance, and a heartbreaking one for rejection.

Once they were away from the prying eyes, Éowyn stood in front of him and bored her eyes into his.

"My lord, this day you asked me to marry you, and you told me to think about it as I went to sleep, looking at the stars. Well, I did not need to do that, my lord; I have made my decision."

Saphin swallowed, and Éowyn was shocked to see that he was clearly nervous.

"You need not be nervous, my lord; I will marry you."

As soon as those words escaped her lips, Saphin thought that he was in a dream; never had he loved anyone before her, and he swore to himself that he wouldn't love anyone after her.

He uncharacteristically swept her up in an embrace. "I love you Éowyn," he whispered. "And I promise to make you the happiest woman in all of Arda."

The Following morning

That night, after Éowyn's acceptance, the two had agreed to keep their betrothal hidden until the following morning, so that they might announce it properly to Théoden's Court. Éowyn had went to sleep that night, thinking about how her life would be as a married woman, but every time she thought of it, that nagging question always slipped into her mind. _"But do you love him?"_ She always tried to push it aside, convincing herself that she _could _love him.

She and Saphin had agreed to meet at the seventh hour of the morning, by then the entire Court would be awakened.

She stood in the small hall and waited for him; it didn't even occur to her that he might be late, for Saphin always arrived on time.

And sure enough, she heard his voice behind her.

"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked softly.

Éowyn whirled around and was instantly lost in his beautiful brown eyes. "Yes, I am ready," she said, taking his hand and walking with him to the main hall.

The guards opened the two large doors for the two as they walked in; they were no longer holding hands, but Éowyn wished that they were for she was nervous to see Théodred and Eomer's reactions when they realized that she was to marry lord Saphin.

Théoden sat on his throne in the anteroom, with Théodred at his right-hand side, and Eomer on the left; they had of course been told that an announcement was to take place, but they had no idea what it could possible be.

But when Grima saw Éowyn and Saphin enter together, his face instantly twisted into a scowl. He had hoped that he would one day find enough grace in Théoden's sight for the King to willingly give him his niece to marry. But he got a bad feeling the moment he saw her with him.

Éowyn and Saphin bowed accordingly as they stood before Théoden; Eomer and Théodred's faces were blank and unreadable.

"My lord," Saphin began. "With your blessing, I asked Lady Éowyn to be my wife," after saying his part, he turned to look at Éowyn, who somewhat nervously finished the speech.

"And I accepted his proposal."

There were so many murmurs from the court that Éowyn and Saphin didn't even know what was being said.

They now held hands as they awaited Théoden's response. Éowyn was not nervous about this, for the King had been overjoyed when she had told him.

Once again, a smile creased his face. "Very well, with my blessing, the two of you shall be wed!" he chortled.

Grima's face looked even worse; it was contorted with anger and disgust as he looked upon the lucky lord. _"The King cannot do this to me!"_ he mind screamed; and then his corrupt eyes fell on Éowyn, who wasn't even making an effort to avoid him. Despite the death of his greatest hope, Grima held on to the greatest form of denial; he would have Éowyn, even if it was the last thing he ever did. It would take an effort to drive a dagger into Saphin's back—right?

Théoden's ranting continued. "I shall send messengers, inviting the lord's and ladies to come to the betrothal celebration of lord Saphin, and lady Éowyn," he turned to a waiting young servant. "Do it."

The servant instantly scurried out to inform the Rohirric messengers.

Minas Tirith

Many hours had passed, and night had fallen on Minas Tirith; Boromir and Faramir hadn't even seen each other since the heated argument. But as night fell, they knew that seeing each other again was inevitable, for the Steward had summoned them to dine with him that night.

They entered the Citadel through separate ways, but had no choice but to walk the same corridor together on their way to the dining hall. Faramir occasionally glanced at Boromir from the corner of his eye, and even though Boromir didn't look angry anymore, Faramir was not about to be fooled again.

Two guards opened the double doors as the Captains of Gondor entered; the room was surprisingly bland. The walls were a plain white, which did not show off the brilliance of the marble floors. The room was bare save a long table with white cloth draped over it—with Denethor sitting at the head.

"Come, my sons! I was beginning to think that you had forgotten about your father," the Steward remarked.

Boromir smiled, looking at Denethor's half cleaned plate. "No, my lord; I think that you had forgotten about us!" he laughed.

Faramir quietly took his seat as Boromir and Denethor laughed with one another.

Denethor rung a bell and the servants came in with various platters to satisfy the biggest of appetites.

Boromir licked his lips hungrily as he dug in. Faramir glanced at him from across the table, before taking his first serving.

Denethor leaned back in his chair. "And son," he said looking at Boromir. "I am so very proud of you for hunting that Haradrim _dog_ down and giving him what he deserved—death!"

Faramir nearly choked on his mouthful of meat. He had hoped that the subject would be left alone and eventually die.

Before Boromir could reply, a young servant entered and bowed nervously. Denethor shot the servant an angry glare. "I did not call you!" he snapped.

"I—I know, my lord; but a messenger wants to see you and he will not wait!"

"What land does he come from," Denethor asked, as curiosity was beginning to get the better of him.

"He comes from Rohan, my lord; should I let him in?"

Denethor hesitated, but Boromir cut in. "It would not hurt to let him in father; we know not what tidings he brings."

Denethor nodded in agreement. "I will see him now," he ordered.

The servant bowed and left, only to return with a Rohirric messenger.

Denethor eyed the man sharply. "What brings you to my Realm?" he asked.

"A letter from King Théoden himself," the messenger answered, walking forward and handing it to Denethor. He did not move as Denethor's eyes quickly scanned the letter.

"What does it say, father?" Boromir asked as soon as Denethor had finished.

The Steward turned to the messenger first. "Tell your King that a representative of Gondor will be present."

The messenger bowed and left.

"What does it say, Father?" Faramir asked, repeating Boromir's question.

"Lady Éowyn of Rohan is to marry lord Saphin, and we have been invited to the betrothal celebration."

The room was silent, for a moment or two no one knew what to say until Denethor spoke up.

"I will send two representatives of Gondor: My two sons."

Boromir nodded. "It is an honor to be chosen, father."

"Yes," Faramir put in. "When is it to begin?"

"The day after tomorrow; it should be enough time for the both of you to make the journey and rest a little before the celebration."

"Will you not come with us, father?" Boromir asked; he knew how Denethor liked to travel to distant countries when he was able.

"No; if I do, then who will stay and keep things in order?"

An idea hit Boromir instantly. "A temporary Steward," he suggested.

Denethor laughed. "A Steward's Steward? I think not."

Faramir sighed. 'Very well, father; we will set out as soon as possible, for Anborn will readily take over for me at Henneth Annun."

Boromir tried to think of whom to leave his duties with, and in the end settled for his trustworthy friend, Marcus.

Edoras

After the announcement, Grima had made it his mission to get to Éowyn first; he was relieved when Théoden relieved him of his duty for part of the day. He instantly scoured the Palace, looking for Éowyn, she was no where to be found until he thought to look in the stables; and there she was, tending to her beloved horse, Windfola. He smiled crookedly to himself as he heard her singing softly to the animal.

He was determined get to her, one way or another. He would never let her out of his sight.

**_Well, whatcha think? Please feel free to review and let me know what you think. All opinions are appreciated! _**


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